False Accusations
by Ella Ann
Summary: Even on holiday, Alex Rider never rests. He makes the mistake of investigating two suspicious men without any sort of authorization, and now the CIA accuses him of crimes he did not commit. Plagued by partial memory loss, he can't provide any information to clear his name. Will he remember enough to prove his innocence before it's too late?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Alex Rider now, and I definitely will not in the future. (This disclaimer applies to all future chapters of this story.)**

Alex crouched behind a refuse container in a grungy alleyway, trying not to notice the unpleasant smells lingering in the air. The sky above him was dark and the clouds were ominous, threatening to spew rain at any moment. He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, wishing he that he was wearing something waterproof.

The weather had been terrible ever since they arrived in Boston, Massachusetts. It was cold, dank, and quite miserable. But he would still rather be here on holiday with the Pleasures than stuck in a classroom all day.

He checked his watch – it read 2:01 P.M. Why was he even sitting here in the first place? He could be out to lunch with Sabina and her mum right now, instead of shivering in some squalid back alley. But of course, his curiosity would not simply allow him to disregard the conversation he overheard this morning.

The spy in him compelled him to investigate.

Was there even any point to this? The two men could have simply been planning something as innocent as a surprise party. They could be completely harmless. Just two guys trying to do something kind for their mother, or sister, or brother…

Then again, if they were planning a party, why would they choose to meet here? There were plenty of other places they could find privacy. This was hardly a pleasant place to be. It was in a rather run-down section of the city, with antiquated shops and seedy-looking vendors.

Yes, something strange was definitely going on here. He glanced at his watch. Four minutes had passed. If he had heard correctly, they should be arriving any moment. This was probably a terrible idea. If they really were up to mischief, there wasn't much he could do to stop them alone. He'd have to get in touch with the CIA, and he was trying to keep as low a profile as possible. It was only a matter of time before someone from his old life tried to recruit him.

And he was just starting to enjoy the simplicity of a normal life.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. There was a tall man approaching from the right wearing a long overcoat and dark sunglasses. The coat was sensible on a day like today, but the sunglasses looked out-of-place.

As if on cue, a second man came in from the left, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The two men met in the middle of the alleyway. Without so much as a handshake, they began speaking in hushed tones.

He stole a peek from behind the container, careful not to make any sudden movements. He strained to pick up something from their conversation, but they were speaking in a language that he did not understand or even recognize.

Slowly, he removed his cell phone from his pocket. Perhaps if he could record their conversation, he could transfer it to his laptop and enhance the audio quality. Then he could run it through a translation program. Something was definitely off about these men. They were planning something, and it wasn't going to be good.

His eyes widened in alarm when he glanced down at his phone. The icon on his screen indicated that he had no cell signal. That was strange, because he remembered having full service when he arrived here. Could the weather be interfering?

_No, I don't think that's it._

Suddenly, it dawned on Alex. The men were using some sort of signal-blocker to prevent the few scattered security cameras in the area from transmitting anything until they were gone.

Whatever they were doing, they wanted to keep it a secret.

But that still didn't make any sense. The data would remain in the cameras. It would still be sitting there, waiting to be discovered. Someone, eventually, would find the footage.

Alex realized something that sent a chill down his spine. These men, whoever they were, weren't planning to be alive for much longer. They just needed to operate in secrecy until they completed the job. Most likely, it was a suicide mission.

_Were these men terrorists? What were they planning? _

Abruptly, all was quiet. He froze, startled by the sudden change.

His breath hitched when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head…and regretted it immediately. The man with the sunglasses backhanded him so hard that colorful dots danced before his eyes.

His opponent pulled him from behind the refuse container and threw him to the ground, pulling a gun from his waistband and pointing it at Alex. "Should we kill him?" he asked.

"Not yet," the other man growled.

Alex felt something hard and cold collide with his temple, and the last thing he saw was his own blood, splattered on the filthy ground before him. He collapsed and sunk into the darkness.

**A/N: This follows my other story, "Never Alone", but there's no need to read that in order to understand this. Comments, suggestions, and criticism are welcome. Although I would appreciate if criticism were stated kindly. Thanks for reading! :-)**


	2. Chapter 1

The world was dark. A myriad of scents hung in the air. Alex was freezing cold and wet, shivering on the slick cement. There was a terrible pounding in his head, and he wished that he were unconscious.

Painfully, he opened his eyes, and was pleased to be greeted by the dim colors of sunset in the sky above, which were gentle on his sensitive eyes. His limbs were sprawled about him, but it hurt too much to move, so he stayed there, taking deep breaths.

Where was he? More importantly, why was he here? He couldn't remember anything beyond having breakfast at a small café with Sabina this morning. His memory lapse was unsettling, but he figured that it would all come back to him soon. At least he wasn't in a cell somewhere, bound and gagged.

Had he been the victim of a mugging? He reached down to check his pockets. Everything seemed to be there. Wallet, _check_. Cell phone, _check. _

_What the heck happened to me?_

He didn't know the answer, and that disturbed him.

Glancing around, he took note of the ever-fading daylight. Despite all the things he was unsure of, he did know that he needed to get out of here. With night falling, the last thing he wanted was to be alone on the streets of Boston. If he hadn't been mugged before, he'd probably be mugged now. And he was in no shape to fight.

With a strangled grunt, he pried himself from the ground, wincing with each movement. The world spun, and he struggled not to vomit. Thankfully, the alley wall was there for support. He clung to it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing Sabina's number. It only rang once.

"Alex, is that you? Are you alright?" Sabina asked frantically.

"I think I'm okay. I need you to come and get me. I don't think I can make it back to the hotel on my own. Something happened…but I can't remember a thing." It stung to admit it, but he needed help.

There was pause, and then a shaky breath. "I'll get my father. We'll be there as soon as we can. Where are you?"

It was a simple question, but he didn't have an answer. Hobbling out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, he glanced at the nearest street sign and read it to Sabina. "All right, Alex. Hold on. We'll be there soon."

"I'll be waiting."

"Stay safe."

"I'll try," he said and ended the call. He took a deep breath, observing his surroundings. There were a few people on the street, but no one was paying attention to him. That was good. The last thing he needed was to attract the interest of someone unfriendly.

Although he wanted to stay visible, so Sabina and her dad could find him, he preferred to remain concealed in the shadows of the alley – it seemed safer. For at least five minutes, he was able to stand. But then his knees grew weak and he had to sit, with his back braced against the brick wall.

Another ten minutes passed, and there was still no sign of them. His eyes grew heavy, exhaustion threatening to consume him. Short flashes of his lost memories came to him as he drifted off, but as soon as they appeared, they were gone.

Some time later, Alex felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and heard hushed voices calling his name. His eyes shot open, taking in Sabina and Edward Pleasure. His body relaxed at the sight.

"Alex, can you hear me? Are you all right?" Edward asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just tired."

Edward tugged him to his feet and led him to the car, carefully helping him into the backseat, securing a seatbelt around him. Normally, Alex would've protested the help, but he was far too worn to resist.

He jumped as the car started, but slowly found himself lulled into a dream-like state by the steady hum of the engine. Alex only spoke once, and that was to object to going to the hospital.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, he was able to muster enough energy to shuffle into the main lobby on his own. He was vaguely aware of curious glances from those around him, but he ignored them and stepped into the elevator. Edward and Sabina were right behind him.

When he entered the hotel room, Sabina's mum grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. Her expression grew concerned when she took note of his condition. Alex was sure he looked terrible, if the way he felt was any indication.

Before he was aware of what was happening, he was on the couch, his wounds being cleaned and bandaged. The antiseptic stung, but he hardly noticed – just as he also didn't notice as he was nudged into the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes. Everything was going by in a blur. Perhaps he had been drugged. That would explain his sluggishness.

He just hoped that he'd be fine by morning.

…

Alex stared at his watch.

_4:27 A.M._

Despite his desire to sleep, he was having trouble settling his mind. He was feeling better now, and although that was good, he couldn't manage to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. And every time he awoke, he found himself struggling to recall the events of the previous day.

So far, he hadn't been successful.

Something bad had happened – he was certain of that. Typically, waking up on the ground in the middle of an alleyway was indicative of _bad _circumstances. His injuries suggested that he had been attacked, but it didn't seem like he had fought back. Otherwise, there would have probably been some injury to his hands. At the very least, his knuckles should feel sore.

He just hoped –

Alex's head snapped up, in response to the noise coming from the hallway. There were footsteps, heavy and quick. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be moving so enthusiastically. Was he in danger?

He shot up from the couch, desperate to find something to use as a weapon, when he heard a knock at the door.

He froze, a million thoughts running through his head.

There was nowhere to run, and he certainly wouldn't abandon the Pleasures. Alex's only option was to face them. With firm determination, he picked up a lamp from the side table, walked toward the door, and slowly turned the handle.

The sight of the two well-dressed men standing before him was surprising.

"Alex Rider? We work for the CIA. You need to come with us immediately."

**A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, etc. =) I'm going to try to get the next chapter up by this time next week. **

**Do you guys have any suggestions or comments? If so, I'd love to hear them!**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has shown interest in this story! I really appreciate it. =)**

"_Alex Rider? We work for the CIA. You need to come with us immediately."_

"I'm sorry?" Alex asked, the lamp falling from his hands. Despite his efforts to appear poised, he instinctively took a step back.

"We need to ask you a few questions concerning an _incident_ that occurred last evening."

"Can't we talk about it here?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Why not?" Alex countered, suspicious. With the lapse in his memory, he felt vulnerable. The agents (if that was really who they were) seemed to know something that he did not–and that was dangerous. To a spy, knowledge was power. It often provided an advantage, a tool for manipulation.

"Alex?" a voice called. "Where are you? Is everything all right?" Sabina was standing behind him now, her face twisted in confusion. "Who are they?"

One of the agents–the tallest one–pushed past Alex and entered the room, stopping to tower over Sabina. "We work the CIA, _ma'am_" he boasted, removing an identification card from his pocket and flashing it at them both. "I'm afraid that Alex Rider is coming with us."

"And why would that be?" she snapped back, straightening a bit, placing her hands on her hips. She may not have looked intimidating with her smeared makeup and knotted hair, but the glare she was giving him could have melted stone. "He's done working for people like you. Didn't you get the memo? Alex is free now."

The agent blocking the doorway spoke up. "This has nothing to do with Rider's employment status. He's wanted for questioning."

Sabina's eyes widened just a bit, but she recovered quickly. "Well you can't just come in here and take–"

"What is going on out here?" Edward came storming out of the bedroom, but froze as both agents trained their guns on him. A look of alarm crossed his face, and he raised his hands in surrender.

It took all of Alex's willpower to restrain himself from trying anything stupid.

"If there's anyone else in here," the agent called out, anger lacing his voice, "I'd suggest that you remain where you are!"

"Mum!" Sabina called. "Don't come out, please!"

"Come on, kid, let's not make a scene." The tallest agent said, gripping the teen's forearm and pulling him towards the door.

"How do I even know that you're telling the truth?' Alex spat. "You could be a serial killer for all that I know."

The agent smirked at that. "I can assure you that I'm not. But even if I were, you don't exactly have a choice." He stopped, turning to face Edward and Sabina. "Anyone make a move, and I'll shoot." Alex heard the gun's safety click off. "I have the authority to do so."

"Do you honestly expect us to just allow you to take him?" Edward was indignant, practically shaking with anger. "He's only a minor."

The agent in the doorway scoffed. "With the martial arts skills of a grown man,"

Sabina shot him a glare.

"Relax. We'll make sure he reaches Langley safely. You can contact him there." He flicked his eyes to his partner. "Give the man a card."

With a tight grip on his gun, the man stepped through the doorway, producing a small, white business card. Edward took it, his face showcasing feelings of anger and anxiety. "If Rider's alibi checks out, we'll send him back to you, with first class plane fare. Fancy peanuts and everything."

With that, they dragged Alex from the hotel room, slamming the door behind them. He could hear Sabina's cries and a loud exclamation from Edward. Fear churned in his stomach, but he managed to keep his face impassive. This was not good. Not good at all.

The men led him down the stairs and through the lobby, past confused guests and surprisingly passive staff. They had probably been informed of the situation beforehand. What had they been told?

Regardless, Alex was sure that he'd never be welcome in this particular hotel again.

They stepped out of the building and into the biting morning air. Alex wasn't wearing a coat or shoes, but he didn't dare ask to go back. The agent with the grip on his forearm shot him a sympathetic glance as he felt Alex shiver, but his compassion died there.

There was a nondescript black car waiting at the curb, with a driver keeping the engine warm.

"Get in," someone barked. Alex was too preoccupied with the feeling of metal sliding around his wrists to notice who it was that spoke.

Within a few moments, he found himself squished between the two men, hands cuffed in front of him. He tried to keep a hold on the rising feelings of panic as the hotel grew smaller behind them.

A few minutes passed in silence.

"Why do I have to wear the cuffs?" Alex asked.

"It's a precaution."

"Why, am I really that much of a risk?" Alex knew it was a bad idea to taunt them, but it calmed his nerves. And it was better than sitting silently. He was in the dark. And he feared that more than anything else.

One of the men sighed, the other one–Short-Stuff, Alex decided to call him–was preoccupied with his Blackberry. He didn't seem interested in the conversation whatsoever.

"Your records suggest that you have certain advanced…abilities."

"So you're scared."

"No. We just prefer to be prepared."

"You're treating me like some sort of dangerous criminal."

"You could be, for all that we know," he mocked, throwing Alex's previous serial-killer comment back with full force.

"What ever happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

"That means that we won't put you in front of a firing squad until we're sure you're guilty. But that doesn't mean that we won't take precautions, of course. Even you should be able to see the logic in that."

"So whatever happened last night is worthy of the death penalty? Even for a minor?" Alex asked, smirking. If he was reading the agent correctly, then he had just revealed something that was supposed to remain secret. "Interesting."

The man's face settled into a look of irritation. "This conversation is over," he said after a minute, his voice laced with venom. "Watch all the pretty houses go by, kid. And don't speak for the rest of the ride."

Alex took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself. It was going to be a long drive to Virginia.


	4. Chapter 3

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Alex slouched in a cold, metal chair, tapping his foot impatiently. The sound reverberated off the walls of the cramped space, but he doubted that the men guarding the door could hear it. This was an interrogation room, after all. It was probably sound proof.

Although he wasn't one to complain, he did feel like he'd been waiting for quite a long time. That was rather rude—almost as rude as dragging him here in the first place. Why was he here anyway? What had happened? His lost memories continued to elude him.

He ground his teeth in annoyance.

There wasn't a clock in the room, but Alex still felt like he could hear the seconds ticking away in his mind. He zoned out for a few moments until the door opened, and an older-looking woman entered.

"Alex Rider," she deadpanned.

"Hello," he replied, studying her intently. Her face wasn't one that would stand out in a crowd, and she wasn't particularly tall or short. The clothing she wore reflected her practicality, in that it made her appear professional, yet comfortable. Overall, her looks were average.

But there was far more to this woman than just her physical appearance.

Her gait was strong, confident. From the minute she entered the room, Alex could tell that she was in a position of authority. She seemed to emit an aura that demanded immediate respect, and he found himself biting back any sort of sarcastic remark that threatened to escape his lips.

"I am not one to waste time, Alex," she purred, taking the seat across from him. "So if you don't mind, I'd like to get straight to the point. You are in a great deal of trouble. You are suspected in a high-profile murder."

He nearly gaped. Murder? Alex hadn't killed anyone (well, not recently, that is). Granted, there was a very large gap in his memory at the moment, but he knew that he hadn't killed anyone.

Right?

"I'm sorry, but I truly have no idea what you mean. Who has died?"

The woman's eyes narrowed and a smirk tugged at her lips. "Playing stupid, are we?"

"I—I'm sorry?" Alex stuttered, shocked. "I'm not playing _anything_. I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes, an expression of irritation. "You should know that this _interview _is merely procedure. We have enough evidence against you to make an arrest. You fit the perpetrator's physical description. So why don't you just make it easier on yourself and tell the truth?"

"I am telling the truth," he asserted, suddenly nervous. "I haven't killed anyone."

"The highly-experimental gunpowder residue on your hands and the anonymous tip we received tell an entirely different story." She spat. "The gunpowder matches the type found in the murder weapon."

Alex's eyes shot down to his hands, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. "Gunpowder residue? I don't have any—"

"The tests do not lie, young man. We took a swab of your hands when you arrived here, just before we took your fingerprints. Do you not remember? It wouldn't surprise me if you were that absentminded. After all, you were stupid enough to leave the sniper rifle you used in the murder a few blocks from the scene of the crime—with your _fingerprints _plastered all over it. And inside it, as well."

The air in the room suddenly went cold, and he had to keep his body rigid so that he wouldn't shake. Trying to speak, but failing terribly, he gasped. Alex's training and experience were useless now. He was starting to doubt himself. It was easy to assert his innocence when he was sure of it himself…but now, he didn't know.

"But I'm not even trained to shoot." He mumbled, in a feeble attempt to vindicate himself.

"Oh, really? You expect me to believe that you didn't learn anything about guns during your short run with SCORPIA? I'm sure they taught you plenty. So unless you have an incredibly good explanation for all of this, I'm afraid that we'll have to move forward with your arrest." She moved to stand.

"Wait!" Alex shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. He should have been shocked that the woman knew of his time with SCORPIA, but there was so much adrenaline in his system that he barely noticed. "I—I didn't do a thing! This is absurd. After what I've done for the CIA—you accuse me of murdering someone? I can't even remember a bloody thing about—"

Alex clamped his jaw shut before he could reveal anything more.

The woman sat back down, sharp eyes peering into his. "Can't remember what?" she spoke softly.

_Should I tell her about my memory loss? Will she even believe me?_

"I don't remember a large part of yesterday," Alex began calmly, deciding to risk the truth. "I woke up on the floor of an alleyway. Sabina and Edward picked me up in the evening. I don't know what happened, but I know that I wouldn't kill anyone. I have no reason to. Please, you have to give me chance. I must have been set up. Perhaps someone framed me as I was unconscious!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes expressed suspicion. She pursed her lips. "Interesting story. I'm not sure if you're crazy or simply a terrible liar. You had plenty of reason to commit the murder. The man now lying dead in an autopsy room used you. You wanted revenge. So you killed him."

Alex swallowed. "No, I didn't—"

"I've heard enough of this," the woman said, standing. "I'm going to fetch a psychiatrist to evaluate you. And perhaps someone to administer a polygraph test…"

"Wait," Alex pleaded. "Would you at least tell me who it is that I supposedly murdered? Give me that much. Please."

She froze mid-step, pivoting on her heel to glare at Alex. It looked as if she was going to ignore him and walk away, but instead she shifted her gaze to the ground and took a sharp breath. "Deputy Director Joe Byrnes."

The door slammed shut, the sound echoing throughout the room.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! The next chapter may take a bit longer to post. There's a good chance that I'll need to do some research before I start writing it. =)**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the longer wait on this chapter, guys! I've been busy, but I hope to have more time to write over Christmas break. :)**

There were times when Alex acted like a hardened, professional spy. As if the smidgen of innocence he possessed had disappeared, and all that remained was the empty shell of a broken child. He could always tell when he was like this, because it reflected in the eyes of those around him.

Especially those close to him.

Although he had done fairly well adapting to a normal life, he occasionally found himself lost in a world of his own—a reality where everyone was out to harm him and no one could be trusted.

He had overheard Sabina and her mum whispering about it once. They didn't seem to be too concerned about Alex's strange episodes (or maybe he should call them _moods_), but he definitely was.

It wasn't the sort of thing he could control. One moment, he would be laughing and joking with a friend….the next, he would be serious, eyes darting frantically about his surroundings, searching for an enemy that wasn't there.

Alex had chosen _not _to mention this to Edward's psychologist friend. None of it was normal, of course, but he figured that he could manage on his own. The longer he spent doing _normal _things, with _normal _people, the less often such episodes occurred.

Had that meant he was getting better? At the time, he had really hoped so.

But now, after a tedious polygraph test and an uncomfortable psych exam, he found himself huddling on a small cot, imprisoned within a cell.

Yes, this would definitely be a major setback on his road to recovery. If he ever got the chance to recover, that is. For all he knew, there was a firing squad polishing their weapons right now.

_Well, that's a pleasant thought._

It had been at least a few hours since he'd spoken with that woman (he had another name for her, but it was rather rude). The cold reality of Byrnes' death was just beginning to sink in. Alex shivered.

_Gone, forever. _

Death was a hard thing to accept; no matter how many times one was exposed to it. Alex knew that life was no more certain than a gamble, but painful reminders such as this still shook him. And contrary to the woman's beliefs, he had actually liked Byrnes. The man seemed nice enough, even if Alex resented the circumstances that had brought them together. In truth, he was fairly upset to hear of his untimely death….

…but he was even more upset to be the one blamed for it.

There was no way Alex would've killed him. That accusation was just absurd, even with the evidence stacked against him. Unfortunately, no one seemed to believe him.

_I have not killed anyone. _

At the very least, he had to be sure of that, if only to claim his own innocence. Many things were uncertain, yes, but Alex refused to believe that he was some sort of assassin.

He hoped not, anyways.

Alex shook his head. Those thoughts were depressing. It was time that he snapped out of his brooding and thought on positive things, such as getting out of here.

The Pleasures would do all that they could to help him. He knew that. The question, of course, was whether it would be enough.

…...

"Dad, we've waited long enough, it's time to get Alex back."

Sabina stood firm, meeting her father's eyes. Her stance was rigid, determined—and it was obvious that she would not concede to wait a moment more.

Edward took a deep breath, biting his lip. "Sabina," he began carefully. "I've tried calling the number on the card. There is no answer—"

Her eyes flashed in irritation, and she took a step closer. "So? What does that matter?"

With a sad shake of his head, he ignored her interjection, willing her to calm down. "I think we should wait until we have contact with someone in the CIA before we go storming down there with our pitchforks and torches."

"What?" Sabina was indignant, or perhaps just appalled. Her body began to shake. "We can't just _abandon _him."

"That's not what I'm suggesting, not at all." He took a deep breath, centering himself. Anxiety was building inside of him with every moment that passed. Alex was out there somewhere, alone. Who knew what they were doing to him. "I'm thinking of Alex's safety here. We don't know what the CIA wants with him. We don't know what sort of trouble he's in. Therefore, we can't take action until we figure out what is going on. If we make a move that's perceived as a threat, then they'll simply arrest us as well."

Her posture softened, and she cast her eyes to the ground. He knew that she was not happy with his answer, but she seemed to accept his logic.

"I guess we would be no good to Alex if we were locked in a cell,"

"Exactly," Edward sighed, trying to release some of the unease trapped inside of him. "But don't worry. I plan to do all that I can to bring Alex back home to us."

Sabina was about to cry, so he stepped forward, bringing his daughter into a tight hug.

"Promise?" she whispered.

"Absolutely," Edward replied, fully intending to keep his word.

Alex was now a part of his family. And he was not willing to have it any other way. They would get him back.

Even if it meant he had to storm the castle himself.

…

Doctor Byron Connor worked at his desk, organizing the unruly stack of notes and forms into a neat, orderly pile. He would need to file those later.

Now, however, he wanted to focus on creating a workspace that promoted productivity. He pinched his pens and carefully placed them into the drawer, ensuring that each one wound up in its designated spot. They were all divided by color, and then subdivided by the fineness of the tip.

Next, he scooped the paper clips from his desk and arranged them according to their size, dropping them into place right next to the pens. After a few more minutes of tedious organization, he was nearly finished.

_Just one more thing to do—_

Some criticized him, claiming that his standards were excessively meticulous. But in his mind, in order to be efficient, everything had to be in its proper place. It was far easier to work in a cleanly environment. Filth and disorganization hindered any sort of real progress, or so he believed.

Byron's thoughts were rudely interrupted by a loud knock at his door. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he turned around to greet his visitor. "Hello Mrs. Bradley, it's good to see you."

"I'm not here to exchange pleasantries with you, Doctor." she said, frowning. "I'm here to see the results of Alex's polygraph test and psychological evaluation."

"I see," he said, smiling so wide that his cheeks were beginning to ache. "Well then, let's get down to business."

She took a seat in one of his padded chairs as he pulled a file from his cabinet and laid it flat against his desk. There were a few moments of silence as Mrs. Bradley glanced at the papers before her.

"Alex Rider is a fascinating young man," he said, breaking the stillness. Mrs. Bradley absent-mindedly skimmed one slender finger over the polished oak surface of his desk, lost in thought.

Doctor Connor noticed, but was not concerned, for he had scrubbed it three times today. She would not find a single speck of dust.

"He certainly seems to be. I got that impression when I spoke with him earlier," she said.

"He's relatively stable, too. I mean, considering his past, he's doing well. His psych exam did not show anything too concerning—yes, he certainly has a few mental and emotional problems, but overall, he seems…fine. I didn't see anything indicating that he was a sociopath, which, of course, is good. However—" Byron paused, searching Mrs. Bradley's eyes. "If I consider both his psych exam and the polygraph, I think it's safe to say that Alex truly is suffering from amnesia."

She sat up in her seat, surprised. "What? How can that be?"

"Perhaps, being under extreme stress from carrying out the assassination, he's managed to block out all of his memories from that day. That's unlikely, but plausible, especially if this was his first pre-meditated kill. The other option, of course, is that he's truly innocent—that there's more going on here than you think."

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. "I refuse to believe it,"

Byron arched an eyebrow, annoyed by her lack of ability to see past her own bias. "Well, you may have to." He crossed his arms, standing a little straighter. "I want to take the boy under my supervision and help him to recover."

His demand took her off guard, and her eyes widened, filling with anger. "_Absolutely not_."

"I think that this is the best option. You wouldn't want to execute an innocent child, would you? Something here is amiss. The pieces fit together almost too perfectly, as if this whole thing had been planned from the beginning. Alex Rider is many things, but he is not stupid. I don't believe that he would be so careless during an operation. Surely even you recognize his intelligence."

"You have a point, perhaps," she acquiesced after a few moments. "But I still don't believe him. He's killed Byrnes, and is merely using this lie to buy himself more time."

Byron resisted the urge to sigh. "Look, if we haven't made progress in a week's time, I'll hand him over for prosecution. But for now, he's my patient. I'm not comfortable sending a potentially innocent boy to prison."

"Fine," she spat, annoyed, but resigned. "You can have your way, for now."

"Do we have a deal?"

She stood up, a grimace on her face. "As long as he doesn't try anything stupid, he may stay under your supervision. But only for a week. After that, he's mine."

"Fair enough. I'll give you periodic updates on his condition. The second he regains his lost memories, I'll call you."

"Make sure of that," she warned, storming out of his office.

He breathed a sigh of relief. The hard part was over.

Little did he know, however, that the hardest part was yet to come.

**A/N: As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story. =)**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I hope that you like it! =) As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story. **

The room seemed to be shrinking as each second passed, the walls creeping closer every time Alex blinked.

_How long have I been here?_

He was weary, very weary. Although he could technically sleep any time he wanted to, the jumbled thoughts running through his head kept him from rest. Half of him—the part that was a spy—found this situation annoying and frustrating. That piece of his mind sought to devise a brilliant plan of escape, to find a way to prove his innocence on his own.

The other part of him, however—the normal, logical side of him that he had nurtured over the past couple of months—knew that escape was a foolish idea. Not only would he probably be recaptured, but he would also have incriminated himself even further.

Innocent people weren't supposed to run. That was the general belief, anyway.

And it would be torture for the Pleasures. Even if he managed to steal his own freedom and keep it, he would still be on the run until he proved himself innocent. Then, of course, he'd have to deal with the consequences of breaking out of CIA custody.

None of the Pleasures would be sleeping well for a very long time.

It was a better idea to cooperate for as long as necessary, until the worst happened. If he were tried and found guilty….well, then he would have no choice but to run, and to remain running for his entire life. That wasn't really living, but he figured it was better than dying.

Right?

…

Byron stood before the cell door, taking a deep, slow breath.

He was nervous—scared, even. The consequences were clear. Failure would almost certainly bring death. No, not to him, of course, but to the amnesic teen placed under his care.

Sadly, no one seemed to believe Alex Rider's claims of innocence. Byron himself had been skeptical at first, but now he was convinced that the boy was telling the truth. It was up to him to help Alex reclaim his lost memories, and then, his freedom.

It would definitely be challenging. Byron wasn't delusional. The teen would not accept help readily.

Alex was self-sufficient, strong-minded, and brilliant. But in his current predicament, those traits could prove to be detrimental rather than helpful. He would need to put aside all of his pride and forgo his privacy. For the next week, Alex would have to rely on someone else.

Byron could hear the protests now.

But if he went in thinking negatively, then Alex's fate would be sealed. The first step was the beginning of success, and although it certainly felt like the hardest one, he would not be deterred.

Alex needed him, whether he recognized it or not.

And Byron would not let him down.

…

Snapping out of his thoughts, Alex glanced up to see Doctor Byron Connor standing in the doorway of his cell.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance. Alex had hoped that after his polygraph exam and psych evaluation, he would never have to see this man again. It wasn't that Doctor Connor was cruel, or anything. But he was a psychologist. They didn't seem to understand the concept of privacy.

"Hello, Alex," Byron said, small eyes sparkling with determination. The thin man stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a _clang._

_What does he want?_

"Hello, Doctor Connor," Alex replied. His tone was primarily neutral, although it carried hints of suspicion and curiosity.

"I have a proposition for you," he said, his stare intense.

The teen arched an eyebrow, trying to ignore the discomfort caused by Doctor Connor's gaze. "Oh, really? And what would that be?"

Calm and centered, Connor took several more steps, until he was only a few centimeters from where Alex sat on the cot. "I've been given permission to help you through your memory loss. Whatever you've forgotten may be the key to proving your innocence in the murder of Joe Byrnes."

He couldn't mask his surprise. Connor was the last person Alex had expected to offer help, considering his employment with the CIA. "Are you serious?"

"Completely serious." The man looked confused by his question, but didn't hesitate to continue. "I have to warn you, however, that we only have a week. If we haven't made enough progress by then, I'm afraid that you'll be at the mercy of the CIA. I will no longer be able to help you." He paused for a moment, wringing his hands. "But, of course, you'll need to accept my help. I will only agree to help you if _you_ agree to trust me. "

Alex was frozen in place, his mind whirling. _Trust _this man? He worked for the CIA. How did Alex know that this wasn't some sort of grand scheme to gather evidence against him?

Then again, he didn't really have another choice. It wasn't as if he could walk out of his cell and gather evidence on his own. This would be a huge risk, yes, but it was also his best chance to remember something important.

Was it worth it?

"Alright," he said after a moment.

"So we have a deal?" Doctor Connor asked, extending his hand.

Alex hesitated, and then shook it. "Yes, we do."

"Good," his face lit up in a smile. "Let's get started."


	7. Chapter 6

"This isn't working."

"Alex, perhaps if you tried just a bit harder—"

"Doctor Connor," his voice grew eerily calm for a moment. "We've been at this for _six _days, and we've hardly made any progress. At noon tomorrow, our time will be up, and the CIA will charge me with the murder of Joe Byrnes." Alex glanced down. "This whole thing is pointless,"

_Six days. _

Six days, and he hadn't managed to remember much of anything. He probably wouldn't remember anything tomorrow. Heck, he may _never_ remember what he was doing in that blasted alleyway.

Six days, trapped in this bloody cell, with its bare walls and artificial, blue-tinted lighting. Alex felt like a caged animal. He was treated like one, too.

Six days, and he hadn't heard a word from the Pleasures. That female interrogator was doing an excellent job of keeping him isolated from the rest of the world.

Six days, he spent suffering through Doctor Connor's tedious mind-games and petty pep talks.

One day, and he would be either a fugitive or a prisoner.

Despite Doctor Connor's best efforts, there was little hope of Alex regaining his memories in the time that remained. It was possible, of course…but was it likely? No, not really.

_I'd be better off handling this situation on my own. _

He glanced up to see the doctor sitting stiffly, spectacles resting on the tip of his nose, as he jotted down some scribbles in his worn notepad.

Alex shook his head.

With the seconds passing relentlessly, it was time to make a decision. The longer he spent imprisoned, the more he felt his sanity slipping. Captivity did strange things to the mind.

So, should he stay here and risk everything, only to cling to the hope that justice would prevail? Or should he escape?

Escape would be difficult, yes. There were many factors to consider, many of which he'd already thought out. But his plan was prepared. All that he had to do was make the final decision to flee.

It was not an easy choice.

_I'm having more trouble making this decision than I should be. _

A part of him felt like a coward for wanting to run. Surely, staying to face trial would be the courageous thing to do. If the judge ruled in his favor, it would be easy to say that he had been brave for trusting the system. But if the judge found him guilty…

Perhaps staying would be foolish. Sometimes bravery and foolishness went hand-in-hand, after all. Escaping, no matter how risky it may seem, may be wiser.

"Alex? Please, just focus for a few moments more."

Doctor Connor's voice snapped him out of his brooding, and he took a deep breath, exhaling harshly. "I'm done, Doctor Connor. I don't want to waste my time on this nonsense anymore,"

_Not when I could be using this time to work on my escape. _

"But Alex, I'm confident that if you—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Doctor," a guard said as he stepped through the door. "But the prisoner is permitted to have a visit."

Alex shot him a glare, but the man didn't react.

"We're in the middle of a session—" Doctor Connor began, but fell into silence under the guard's hard stare.

"He has thirty minutes, and the timer has already begun."

Alex glanced between the guard and Doctor Connor, hesitant to get his hopes up, but desperate to see if it was anyone that could help him. "We can finish this later, Doctor Connor. I need a break, anyways."

There was a pause.

"That's fine, I suppose," he said, resigned. "Hurry back,"

The guard seized Alex and shackled him. It was degrading, the way the man treated him like some sort of animal, but his thoughts were focused on other things.

"This way,"

He led Alex down a long hallway to an elevator, where they traveled down to the floor below.

Despite his excitement, Alex still managed to take note of everything around him. He'd need to know as much about the building as possible, if his escape plan was to actually work.

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached a heavy door with an electronic lock. The guard swiped his key card, and forcefully escorted Alex into the room. He shoved him into a chair, stepping into the corner to make a call on his radio.

The room was boring, with little furniture and dreary lighting—there was nothing spectacular about the place. Of course, he didn't really care about the décor. He was far too curious about his visitors to care about such things.

Alex began to lose himself in speculation, only to be pulled from his thoughts a few moments later as he heard footsteps in the hallway.

His muscles were rigid with anticipation. His eyes were fixed on the door, eager to see who was behind it. It felt as if the world had stopped spinning, time had died out, and that he only existed in this single moment.

The handle turned, and then slowly, the door creaked open.

He felt a rush of relief so great, that he even managed a small smile.

Finally.

The Pleasures were here.

**A/N: There are a few different ways that I can take this story from here. My original plan was to have Alex regain his memories before the deadline, and walk out of the CIA's HQ a free man (or, more accurately, free ****_teen_****). **

**But instead of that, I could have Alex escape. He would probably end up proving his innocence on his own, but it would take a while. Which would mean that this story would be much longer than I originally intended. I'm not even sure if I'm capable of pulling this off, but I'm considering it. I make no promises, however. :)**

**It would be really nice to hear your thoughts on this (ghost readers, included-that is, if I have any). So if you wouldn't mind, please drop a review or PM me with any suggestions. I'd love to hear from you guys!**


	8. Chapter 7

Edward took in the ragged appearance of the shackled boy standing before him. Alex looked as if he had lost weight, judging by the way that his cheekbones protruded from beneath his pale skin. Unkempt hair hung in his eyes, giving the dark circles forming under them an even darker appearance.

And the look in his eyes—it was one that Edward would never forget. Desperation mixed with something darker…something dangerous, perhaps.

There had been a flare of relief for a moment, but it had dissipated quickly. Alex tried to flash his usual grin when they first made eye contact, but Edward could tell that there was raw, brutal emotion brewing underneath the mask.

It was frightening to see how much he had changed in a week's time. Captivity was not healthy for him. They needed to get him out of here, and soon.

Despite Alex's disturbing appearance, Edward tentatively reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, then another, pulling him into a tight hug. The boy resisted at first, but eventually softened and accepted the embrace.

It was a rare moment. Edward usually preferred to give Alex his space, so as not to force a relationship that did not exist. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries, so on most occasions, he simply let his words express his support. But this time, he felt that this was the best way to show Alex that he was there for him.

Then it passed, and Edward was breaking his hold, stepping back to allow Sabina and his wife a chance to squeeze him until he burst.

Edward stood quietly off to the side as his wife fussed over Alex's unhealthy appearance, and Sabina, with tears running down her face, vented to Alex her anger, frustration, and downright fear over his predicament. As the minutes passed, Alex loosened up, and it became obvious that he was relieved to see them.

Edward was just as relieved to see Alex, even though the teen was anything but healthy.

Flicking his eyes to the guard standing in the corner, Edward noted the look of disdain on the man's unshaven face. His hand hovered a little too close to the pistol strapped to his thigh, and Edward reminded himself to avoid any threatening moves.

In what felt like ten minutes but was probably twenty, the guard stepped forward and informed them that their visit was over. Alex was visibly disappointed, but recovered quickly.

"You'll be home soon, Alex," Sabina said, wiping at her eyes. "We promise."

His wife and daughter said their goodbyes, turning to make their way to the door. Edward's eyes locked with Alex's, and an unspoken promise passed between them.

_We promise to get you back…no matter what it takes. _

Alex nodded, face serious, and Edward stepped from the room, releasing a slow breath.

_We will get him back. We have to. _

…

"Time to go back to your cell," the guard said, grabbing Alex's forearm and leading him out the door. A few meters down the corridor, the man chuckled. "That scene back there was awfully touching," he said sarcastically.

The man's malice was clear, and it took all that Alex had to restrain himself. He bit the inside of his cheek. Now was not the time to be making rude comments.

"Nice family you managed to get there. Not everyone is so lucky, you know. Too bad you won't ever get to go back to them," he taunted, leaning in a bit too close.

Alex didn't flinch, but he did bite his lip until he tasted blood.

"You think they'll be there for your execution?" The guard's laugh was sinister. "That little girl is gonna be _hysterical._ You think she'll try to fight for you? You think she'll try to save you?"

The louder and nastier the man's words got, the more Alex's restraint dwindled. He was mere seconds from shouting when the man stopped abruptly and shoved Alex against a wall, sending a spark of pain flaring across his back. Instinctively, he tried to throw a punch or a kick, only to realize that he was cuffed.

"You murdered a good man. A _good man,_ you slimy little—"

His insult was cut short as Alex's forehead slammed into his jaw. The guard's head snapped back, and he stumbled. Fueled by rage, Alex threw himself on top the man, only to be tossed to the side a few moments later.

The guard used his weight to pin his much smaller opponent to the ground, and landed a painful hit on his nose. Alex's vision blurred as tears smudged his vision, while flashes of pain shot through his sinuses. He tried to free his hands from the cuffs, but his palms were sweating and his fingers were shaking…

Then suddenly, he was off his back, dangling in the air. "Listen here, _kid_," the man spat, cold eyes angry and condemning. "Joe Byrnes was one of the best guys that I knew. He was caring, kind-hearted, and brave. A true hero. I looked up to him, admired him, even. And you, a sniveling little brat, took his life as if it were nothing."

The man stopped and took a deep breath, obviously trying to get his fury under control. He then threw Alex to the ground, and knelt beside him. "Because of that, kid," he lowered his voice menacingly, "if the CIA doesn't have you killed, believe me, I _will._"

He pulled Alex to his feet and led him to the elevator. The ride was frighteningly silent—nothing more passed between them. For a moment, Alex thought that the man was going to kill him before the doors parted.

He braced himself, preparing to fight for his life…

But the man simply led Alex out of the elevator and into his cell, shooting him a look of disdain.

_Blast. Where is Doctor Connor when I need him?_

"Oh, and by the way," a cruel grin twisted the guard's lips and he crossed his arms, speaking quietly. "I have a message for you from the folks who've informed me of some of your _other _activities. You know, the stuff you've been doing when MI6 wasn't looking."

Alex stared at the man, wide-eyed.

"Anyways, they say it'd be better for you to accept your fate as a prisoner of the CIA than to suffer through the things they've got planned for you if you're ever released." He paused for a moment, as if recalling something important. "This next part is a direct quote. 'We never forgive, we never forget'."

Alex swallowed, suddenly feeling cold. This could only mean one thing.

SCORPIA was back.

**A/N: I hope that wasn't too predictable. I tried to provide as little information about the bad guys as possible, leading up to this point. I always found it hard to believe that SCORPIA was gone for good. I mean, even with the leaders dead or imprisoned, there had to be other agents that were capable of taking over. I mean, it's ****_SCORPIA_****. There had to be someone left to run the show. :)**

**Oh, and also, do you guys think that the rating on this story needs to be "T"? I'm not sure if the violence in this chapter is enough to call for a change.**

**As always, thank you for all the follows, reviews, alerts, etc. I'm always excited to see a new email from Fan Fiction pop up in my inbox. **


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